


Especially in the Month of June

by bribitribbit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bribitribbit/pseuds/bribitribbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six-year-old Neville Longbottom learns about his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Especially in the Month of June

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in [November 2011](http://bribitribbit.livejournal.com/715828.html).

"He's still too young." Neville can hear Gran and Gramp speaking outside his bedroom door. He can't hear Gramp's reply, because his voice sounds like what Neville thinks a mountain would sound like if mountains could talk, all rumbly and deep, so Neville is not very good at eavesdropping on him.

Gran is always saying things like that, and Neville suspects the "he" is himself, but he isn't sure what he's too young for. Perhaps it's Quidditch. Neville isn't sure if he minds this. It certainly looks like fun when his cousins play, but once Great Uncle Algie took him up on a broom and after only about two minutes, Neville couldn't help but cry a little, he was so scared. So maybe it's a good thing that six years old is too young for Quidditch. He can wait a few years, until he's at Hogwarts.

Neville fantasizes about what life will be like when he will finally have his own wand, and can do magic like Gran, and what it will be like to fly and not be scared of being too high up. It isn't long before he turns over in his bed and falls asleep, clutching his teddy bear.

Several weeks later, Neville is sitting at the big chair in the living room, watching Gran use her wand to knit a scarf for Gramp. Gramp is always complaining about how cold it is.

There has been a question on Neville's mind for the past two weeks, ever since Gran's friend Ms. Bones visited with her niece Susie, as she did every month or so. He liked Susie very much; she thought of the most exciting games, a skill that Neville had never quite managed to accomplish. He liked Ms. Bones even better, because she was kind and always brought along sweets and winked when she greeted him. After Ms. Bones had given both Neville and Susie a Pumpkin Pasty--Neville's _favorite_ \--they went outside and played a complicated game in which Susie was an evil giantess and Neville was a wizard she was trying to trick.

They paused in their game, just after Susie had declared that she had turned Neville's Great Uncle Algie into a toad and that he would stay that way unless Neville did as she asked, and had a lemonade break. They sipped it on the steps at the front of the house. 

"Why do you always come here with your aunt?" Neville asked Susie.

Susie shrugged. "I s'pose Auntie Amelia doesn't want to leave me at home alone."

"You live with her?" Neville was surprised. "I thought you lived with your mum and dad, like everyone else!"

Susie frowned and tugged on one of her long brown plaits. "I dunno," she said after a few moments. "I haven't got a mum or dad." She paused. "I thought you hadn't got any, either."

Neville blinked. "I... don't." He hadn't ever really thought about it before. He knew, but it had never seemed so obvious before.

"Oh," said Susie, before continuing, "Well, come on. Let's pretend that your Great Uncle Algie is _deathly allergic_ to flies, which is bad because he's a toad and that's all they eat...." 

Neville didn't think again about his new problem until later that night, when he was tucked into bed--and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since. So he watches Gran finish another row on Gramp's scarf before he says, "Gran, how come I call you that? How come I don't call anyone Mum or Dad?"

With shaking hands, Gran lowers her wand and knitting. Slowly, she raises her eyes to meet Neville's and says, "That's just the way things are."

Neville hates that answer, but it's the one Gran always gives. "Yes, I know," he says. "But _why_?"

"Stop asking questions, Neville, and go outside and play."

Disappointed, Neville gets up and goes outside, where he plays a game in which he is Harry Potter and he's destroying You-Know-Who. He even finds a twig that will work as a most appropriate wand.

Later, he sneaks up to Gran's vanity, and with her lipstick, draws a long zig-zagged scar in the middle of his forehead. He bounces downstairs and says, "Look, Gran, I'm the Boy Who Lived!" 

Gran looks up at him. She is shaking harder than she was earlier, and her wrinkled face has gone completely white. "Neville Franklin Algernon Longbottom, go upstairs and take that off _right now_." Her voice is angrier than he's ever heard it, angrier even than she was at Great Uncle Algie when Neville tripped over his foot and fell off the North Pier in Blackpool.

Neville runs upstairs, and he scrubs off the make-up. He goes back downstairs to apologize, even though he isn't sure what he did wrong, but he stops in the doorway when he sees Gran hunched over in her armchair. She's covering her face with her hands--and it sounds like she's crying.

He has never seen her cry before. 

He quietly walks back up to his room, and stays there for the rest of the night. He feels as if he's seen something very forbidden, and he doesn't want to accidentally stumble upon another such event ever again.

~*~

"Hullo, Gramp!" says Neville, mostly recovered from his fear the night before. He has a lollipop and his fingers are sticky. Gramp is in his bed, propped up by several pillows, reading the newspaper. Upon hearing Neville's voice, he folds it closed and lays it next to his hip.

"Good morning, Neville," he says with a tired smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good! Real good. Guess who gave me this lolly?" Neville climbs up to sit next to Gramp. Gramp never complains that Neville is getting his sweets, or his tea, or biscuit crumbs all over his blankets, like Gran usually does.

"Who?"

"You have to _guess_ ," says Neville reprovingly.

"Gran."

"Nope!"

"Er… Mr. Carlton from next door?"

"Nope! One more chance, Gramp!"

"Um, me?"

Neville laughs. " _No_ , weird-o. It was Claire Sylvan, from down the street."

"Are you two particularly good friends?" Gramp chuckles.

"Well, she gave me a lolly," says Neville, as if this is answer enough. For him, it is.

"Aren't you going to share with your old gramps?"

Neville shakes his head, laughing. "No! It's _mine_."

"Fair enough. Besides, I think your gran is making me lunch."

Neville nods. "I just saw her downstairs."

"That woman," Gramp sighs. "All I need is coffee, and that's the only thing she won't give me." There is something warm in his voice.

As if on cue, Gran appears in the doorway, carrying a tray. There is a ham sandwich, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of milk--but no coffee. Not even a cup of tea.

"Neville, get off Gramp's bed, please," she says, setting the tray on Gramp's lap and leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. Neville scrambles off, and knocks over the milk on accident. 

" _Neville_ ," begins Gran, sighing, but Gramp holds up his hand.

"Now, Augie, don't go being harder on him than he deserves. It was just an accident."

"Nothing's an accident," she mutters, but nonetheless, the worst punishment she gives Neville is to go get a towel to clean things up. Then she gets little Betty, the house-elf, to change the sheets. Gran helps Gramp into the spare room, and Neville licks his lolly as he follows them down the hall. They're speaking quietly, but Neville is too preoccupied with the sticky cherry flavor on his lips, so he doesn't listen to what they're saying.

They're headed into the bedroom. Neville goes to sit next to Gramp again. Gran looks at him, just realizing he is there, and shakes her head meaningfully. He sits in a chair instead. 

The spare room has always interested him. He looks around, his lolly finished. There are two beds inside, usually for Great Uncle Algie and Great Auntie Enid, and it is, in Neville's opinion, the best room in the whole house--doubly so, in fact, since he is almost never allowed inside by himself. The walls are painted a pale yellow, and the room is filled with plants. Neville likes the flowers on the dresser the best. They sing when he comes, but they don't sing for anyone else--or at least, he hasn't seen them sing for anyone else. They certainly don't sing for Gran, not even when she waters them.

He goes to look closer at them. Quietly, they hum at him, and their song sounds a little bit sadder than usual. "Gran, I think the flowers need water," he says, but Gran and Gramp are still talking about something that concerns Neville none whatsoever, so Neville sneaks downstairs. With the smallest bit of help from Betty, fills a glass with water and takes it back upstairs. It takes longer than he'd supposed, and by the time he goes back into the spare room, Gran is gone, and Gramp has fallen asleep. He hasn't taken a single bite of his sandwich. Neville stands on his tip-toes and pours the water into the pot, but the flowers' song is no happier.

 _Maybe it takes time_ , thinks Neville, and he closes the door quietly.

Early the next morning, he wakes up to the sound of a crash and shattering glass, followed by the sounds of Betty wailing. "I is a very bad elf, Ms. Augusta!" Gran hushes her, sounding much gentler than usual.

Curious, Neville slides out of bed and pads over to his bedroom door. He opens it and peers out into the hall, where he sees Betty scurrying to pick up pieces of a broken vase. Gran is standing in the doorway of the spare room, clutching the doorframe. Even from Neville's perspective, she looks pale--much like the day Neville had painted a scar on his face.

"Gran?" he whispers. She doesn't hear him, so he tries again, a little louder this time. "Gran?"

She turns her head and looks at him. The corners of her mouth are stern and sad, and her eyes even more so. He suddenly realizes that she is _old_ \--much older than anyone else he can think of. Even older than Gramp, probably, despite the fact that he has been sick for as long as Neville can remember. Everyone else has a mum who is young and lovely, who plays in the sandbox with her children and bakes biscuits. He has a gran whom he loves, but who spends most of her time worrying and looking disappointed. It strikes him, just as the realization that he has no parents had struck him, how very different he is from the other children he knows.

"Neville, go back to bed," Gran says, in a voice that is softer than he'd expected. "I'm sorry Betty and I woke you up."

"Very bad elf," Betty whispers to herself.

Neville obeys, and crawls back into his bed with his teddy bear. The itchy, confusing fear he'd felt the night he'd seen Gran cry returns, and it is a long time before he falls asleep again.

~*~

Neville has never been to a funeral before, and he finds that he doesn't like them a single bit. The church is cold, and there are a lot of people crying, and his shirt is itchy, and he would never admit it because naps are for _babies_ , but he's sleepy. There is a man whom Neville has never seen before at the pulpit, talking about all the things his old friend Aloysius Longbottom liked to do with him when they were young. Aloysius sounds nothing like Neville's Gramp, but he's pretty sure that's who everyone is talking about.

He still isn't sure what Gran meant when she had told him that Gramp is _dead_ but she explained that it means Neville will never see him again. Neville can't imagine not seeing Gramp every morning before breakfast on his way to the bathroom, or hearing Gramp sing along to old songs on the wireless, but it had been three days since he had done either of those things. It makes Neville feel sad. He doesn't like being sad, but there seems to be nothing he can do about it. Not even Susie's games can make him feel better, even though she'd certainly tried when she'd visited yesterday afternoon.

"My parents are dead, too," Susie had quietly admitted to him, when Neville had made it clear that all he wanted to do was lie down in the grass and look at the sky. Neville hadn't replied. He didn't know what to say. "Are your parents dead?"

Neville couldn't reply to that, either. He didn't know. All he really knows is that he misses Gramp--a _lot_.

The funeral is long, and it is a long time before dinner. Fortunately, there seems to be more food in the kitchen than Neville has seen in his entire life. He takes an entire plateful of green pasta and, miraculously, nobody scolds him for it. He takes it to the front steps and balances it on his lap before digging in with the hunger of a thousand Kneazles. Lots of people stop and tell him that he looks charming in his suit, or that they're sorry although he can't tell why. Finally, everyone is gone except for Gran's friend Mrs. Marchbanks, who is busy cleaning up in the kitchen. Neville has been outside a long, long time.

He stands up and goes inside. The summer night is warm, and Neville took off his jacket long ago. He walks towards the stairs so that he can go upstairs and change his shirt as well, but he catches a glimpse of Gran on a couch in the sitting room, staring into space.

Neville takes a deep breath and fills himself with courage, although what he needs it for he isn't certain, and makes his way towards Gran. Without a word, he climbs onto the couch, perches next to her--it's very uncomfortable--and reaches over to take her hand in his. 

They sit there like that, not speaking, for a long while. It feels like _hours_ although it's probably only been a few minutes. 

When Gran finally breaks the silence, her voice is gentle but strong. "Your parents were very brave, Neville. Did you know that?"

He shakes his head. He doesn't know very much about his parents at all.

"There was once a very evil man named--" she coughs. "Well, he was evil, and he did many terrible things. But your parents and their friends--they were brave. They knew they could fight this man and the people who agreed with him."

Gran tells Neville the whole story of his parents, even things like how they had met and the night when he'd been born. There is a whole world of knowledge that he has never before been privy to. By the time Gran gets to the part where a woman named Bellatrix hurt his parents until they had to go to the hospital, he's falling asleep, and he doesn't hear the rest.

~*~

A week passes. Neville doesn't mention his parents or Gramp, at least not in Gran's presence. He asks Betty once if she had ever known his parents, and all she says is that "Mr. Frank was a good master" before leaving Neville alone in his room. On Tuesday afternoon while Neville is playing with Gramp's wizard chess set, Gran tells him to get ready to leave.

"Where are we going?"

Gran doesn't answer, but she does pass him a sweet--Drooble's Best Blowing Gum! Neville loves chewing gum, but Gran usually says it's bad for his teeth. He doen't question this change of heart, and unwraps the little ball with glee, poking the wrapper into his pocket. It tastes like blueberries. 

"They're from Amelia--Ms. Bones," Gran tells him. "You may have this one, but don't ask for another for at least a week." Betty slides in past Gran's legs, and Gran tells her that she will be leaving in ten minutes before turning away. Neville hears the clack of her shoes against the wooden floors of the hallway as she walks towards her bedroom.

After Betty helps him tie his shoes and comb his hair, Gran pulls him into the fireplace. He hates Flooing and wishes that he wasn't so scared of flying--it would probably be much nicer than the whooshing and the dust. 

They land in a place Neville has never been. "Where are we?" he asks, in a hushed voice, staring at the stark white walls and the people in long white robes bustling around. 

"It's called St. Mungo's," Gran replies hastily. Without releasing her grip on Neville's hand, she marches right up to a desk, behind which sits a woman with red hair and red lipstick. She smiles at Neville and he immediately likes her. 

"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom," the woman says, the warm smile not leaving her face. "How may I help you?"

"How are they doing today?"

"Wonderfully! Just saw them take their lunch half an hour ago. You can go right in and see them, they're in the sitting room."

Gran pulls Neville down a long hallway. He continues to chew his bubblegum, taking in the portraits along the walls and the people busily passing by them. Finally they go through two pairs of giant doors and through one smaller one. They're in a bright little room, and near the single window are two people--a man and a woman with wispy gray hair--sitting in blue armchairs, staring out into the street.

There's a voice behind Neville and Gran, and he turns to see a woman, wearing the same white robes as almost everyone else Neville's seen so far. "Alice? Frank?" she says loudly. "Augusta is here to see you."

"And Neville," Gran says.

The two people in the armchairs hadn't seemed to be listening, but at the sound of his name, the woman turns her head and stands very slowly. With halting steps that make it seem as if she will topple forward at any moment, she makes her way towards Gran and Neville. Gran lets go of his hand, and when he glances sideways at her, she once again looks rigid and stern where she has spent the past week looking tired.

"Gran?" he whispers, as the woman stops in front of him. "Who's that?"

Gran coughs. "That," she says, sad exhaustion still coloring her voice if not influencing her posture, "is your mother. And in the chair is your father."

"Oh," he says carefully. 

The woman--his mother--reaches toward him. Instinct pushes him to take a step forward, and his mother touches his cheek. Her fingers are soft and warm. She taps his cheek three times and then holds out her hand, as if expecting something.

He doesn't understand. He looks back at Gran, who is speaking in a low voice with the woman in white robes, and then back towards his mother. She pats his pocket, taps his cheek again, and then holds out her palm even more insistently. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bubblegum wrapper. His mother breaks out into a smile and takes it from him. She rubs it against her own cheek and then offers it back to him. When he takes it, frowning, and puts it back into her pocket, she claps.

For the second time in a week, he takes a deep breath of courage. "Hello, Mum," he says, for the first time in his life.

~*~

When he gets home, there are all kinds of things he doesn't quite understand. He is sad, because his mother looks a lot like him, but she doesn't make biscuits or play in the sandbox. He wonders if she's ever done those things at all. He is happy that he finally knows who his Mum and Dad are. He is tired. He is hungry. He misses Gramp.

After dinner, he goes to the kitchen, and with just a _tiny_ bit of Betty's help, he fills a tall glass of water. He is careful not to spill or to make any noise as he carries it up to the spare room. The flowers on the dresser seem to be waiting for him, and they begin to hum. He pours the water into their pot and takes a step back. He waits, and waits, and waits.

Slowly but surely, the flowers begin to sing.


End file.
